Where I Wanna Be
by Anakin
Summary: Trory! Tristan finally finds the words he's been wanting to say to Rory, in a letter.
1. Surprise, Surprise

New story, short story! Hope you guys like it, cause frankly I think it sucks! Leave feedback though, no matter what you think. I love to read it.  
  
Characters belong to the Wb and that wonderful lady. Plot and story ideas belong to me, don't steal.  
  
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*I'm finding my way back to sanity again  
Though I don't really know what I'm gonna do when I get there  
I take a breath and hold on tight  
Spin around one more time  
Then gracefully fall back to the arms of grace*  


  
  
He laid in bed, the cold, unwelcoming sheets wrapped around his tired body. When he had recieved that letter today, he did nothing in his free hour but read it over and over, unable to do anything else. He tried to write one back, but words wouldn't come to him. Not that ones he wanted to speak, anyway.So now he was doing absolutely nothing but laying there, thinking. It still shocked him that he had gotten a letter today. For the first weeks after he came here, no one had sent him any mail. Not even his parents, his aunts and uncles, no one. After awhile, He hadn't expected anything from anyone, and after a little while, he forced it not the bother him.   
  
But today had been different. He had heard his name, and then a letter flew onto his bed, landing gently against his blankets, face down. He hadn't touched it for a moment, afraid it would disappear. He just stared at it, wondering. After a few moments, a shaky hand reached for the white envelope, preparing himself for the worst. His father writing him to tell him he'd be staying longer than intended. His mother finally saying she was divorcing his father and moving to France to start a new life with her half of the money.   
  
It took him a few minutes to drag his eyes up to see what the return address said, and as his eyes finally landed on it, he couldn't stop his mouth from dropping just the slightest.  
  
_Rory Gilmore  
1385 Pine Drive  
Stars Hollow, CN  
89715  
  
_His trembling hand shook all the harder. Why would Rory write him? He had torn the envelope open, making sure not to rip the return address and unfolded the letter. Fumbling in the dark, doing his best to be quite, he grabbed the letter again and the small flash light he kept hidden under his pillow. He opened the letter, now wrinkled from being read so many times, and rolled over, placing it under him, and began to read again.   
  
_Tristan-  
  
Surprised? I am too. If you're wondering just why I'm writing you, you're not the only one. If this letter comes out scrambled, and you can't understand it, please don't be surprised. I'm not quite sure exactly what I mean to say here..._  
  
_Um, I guess a good start would be: How are you? I hope you're well. Military school rubbing you the right way? Hopefully you aren't getting into much trouble. A girl can dream, right?  
  
It took me a few days to write this, I'm sorry to say. I kept tearing the pieces of paper up and starting over. It took me three days to get this far, and still it seems slightly less than what I really want to say.  
  
We miss you Tristan. The school, strangely enough, actually misses YOU. And not just the entertainment value you used to bring, but having you around. Although it shocked and amazed me, you do have friends here....true friends.  
  
I miss you too. I'll stop there, and leave it at that, as well. The less you know, the smaller your ego will stay.   
  
_Her hand writing had change there, just the slightest, but Tristan had picked up on it. It seemed a little less steady, more messy than before.  
  
_Everything here is good, I guess. Normal, as usual. The teachers, though they miss you deeply and they sometimes have to stop in the middle of a lesson to grab a tissue and cry a little tear for you, haven't lightened their homework load at all. In some ways you're lucky, you got out of having to do a 15 page paper on either Moby Dick or Madame Bovary. Frankly, I think the teachers are seriously evil.  
  
Paris pouted, (she thought secretly but we all knew she was) over you're leaving for a few days, before returning to her usual overly charming self. Can you see my smile from there? *Rolls eyes*  
  
Well, Tristan. I hope you're happy with yourself. It is now 3:30 am, and I have to get up in 2 hours to get ready for school. I hope you write me soon, cause I really would love to hear how you're holding up.  
  
Hear from you soon?  
  
Always,  
Rory  
  
P.S. I can't believe I'm doing this, but...There was so much more I would have done that night of the play Tristan. So much more I would not only have said but acted upon. Even though I am not in your head, I know you did too. My only regret is I didn't do anything about it....  
  
_And that's how it ended. Completely open, completely confusing. The first parts of the letter had brought a smile to Tristan's face that hadn't been there in quite some time. The rest of the letter left him nervous inside, and all through the day his stomach was tied in knots that seemed to get worse as the hours went on. No matter what he was doing, no matter what else was on his mind, he kept coming back to the letter. What would he write back?  
  


_*Cause I am hanging on every word you say  
And even if you don't wanna speak tonight  
That's all right, all right with me  
Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside Heaven's door  
and listen to you breathing  
That's where I wanna be  
Where I wanna be...*_  


  
  
He knew she wasn't going to make the first move. She left that PS as some way to hint at him that if there was to be anything going on, he'd have to start it, and he'd have to start it in the right way. No sly comments, no cheesy lines.   
  
That was exactly the problem. Never in his life had he had to say exactly what he felt without sugar coating it with someone sexual, or just hiding it with something any other girl would have fallen for. Now he actually had to find a way to say what he wanted, and he had to find away that showed it meant it.  
  
Ripping a piece of paper out of his journal, Tristan grabbed a pen and laid it upon the piece of paper, unmoving. Licking his dry lips, he listened to the knots in his stomach. The way they made it hard for him to breath. The way it made his stomach feel weak, vulnerable, and edgy.  
  
_Rory-  
  
You were right, I was surprised. I had every right to be, beyond the point of you sending me a letter, if you get what I mean. Your letter left me feeling...confused, yet I knew exactly what you wanted. Although I was sure I'd never hear (read) that from you, I can tell you, it made me happier than I've ever been.   
  
Words don't come easy to me, Rory, but I know that what I feel for you is beyond them, and even if I was the best writer or poet in the world, I wouldn't be able to put it into words.  
  
I may have acted like a jerk, a completely asshole if you will, but I did it because I didn't know what else to do. My minds stops with you, Rory. I go numb, and everything that I want to say to you is replaced with empty lines and crude remarks. I take back all the ones that truly hurt you Rory, but I wont take back the things I said that brought you out for me to see. I have very few moments that I cherish, but everytime you spoke to me, I stored it, and they're some of my best memories.  
  
I hope to make many more, with you. You're where I want to be.  
  
I'll be home for Christmas, and I'm hoping I'll be able to see you at one point. If I don't...Merry Christmas, Rory.  
  
Write back soon?  
  
With Love,  
Tristan.  
  
_He signed his name, and allowed his shaking hand to rest beside the now finished letter. He would have to send it out tomorrow, or he'd lose his courage, take the letter back and change it to sound more romantic. He'd just end up screwing it up more, or something. He folded the letter, letting his well formed fingers trail over the page for a moment before slipping it under his pillow, ready for delivery tomorrow.  
  
He laid down and closed his eyes, his stomach still in a nervous twist. He'd have to wait at least a week to get any kind of response back from Rory, and he knew it would drive him crazy.   
  
The rest of the night, Tristan barely slept. Memories of Rory haunted his mind. Her voice wouldn't fade from his head. As the night went on it would get stronger and stronger, to the point where he wasn't even sure if it was her anymore. Anytime he fell asleep, she would sneak her way into his dreams and smile at him, her innocent blue eyes gazing up at him under her lashes. He wanted nothing more for this to be real. To reach out and feel more than a pillow. To feel her warm soft skin underneath his hand, shivering at his touch. To feel her breath on his neck and she curled up against him, needing to feel him.  
  
Why couldn't his dreams ever come true?  
  


_*Looking past the shadows in mind into the truth  
And I try to identify the voices in my head  
God, I wish it was you  
Let me feel one more time what it feels like to feel  
And then break these callouses off of me, one more time*  
  
_

  
When morning came the next day, the sleepiness Tristan had felt the whole night through seemed to suddenly be gone. The first free second he had, he made his way down to the postal room and sent off the letter before he could have any chance to change anything he said.   
  
And two weeks later, two weeks before Christmas, a small letter fell on Tristans bed. Falling gently onto his blankets, face down. This time, Tristan didn't hesitate to grab hold. He took hold, and held on tight._  
_  
  
-Song credit goes to LifeHouse, "Breathing" 


	2. What would you like for Christmas?

Chapter 2  
  
  


_Tristan,  
  
I got your letter, of course. I've read it over and over, and I still don't know what to say to you. I had to admitt, when I read it the first time, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face, but now I can't find one to put on it. You're far away Tristan. Really far away, in a completely different state, at a new school, and I'm still back here, going through Chilton alone (except for, of course, the wonderful help I'm recieving from Paris. She says, "Have you shaved your hair yet? Did you cry?" by the way.) and I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to you.  
  
I messed up, I missed out on you. Even though I'm not sure how bad that is. You were still a jerk to me Tristan, and that'll take some serious ass kissing to make it up to me, but when you left a lot of things changed, in side of me and around me. I was used to being able to look at you in class, even if it was only for a second. You were there, I could do it whenever I wanted. Now you're not.   
  
Whatever feelings you have for me Tristan, I return them, but you must drop them. At least until you return, because I can't, I wont have a long distance relationship. If anything, it'll ruin whatever we've figured out here, and that's the last thing we both want.  
  
I'll find a way to come see you at Christmas, and even though it's not all that far away it seems like forever, doesn't it? Don't you love Christmas? Everything just seems to fade away. People anger is removed, frustration is pushes aside. Unless you live in a big city and spend 7 hours everyday for a week trying to shop, which is pretty stupid all the same.  
  
What would you like for Christmas? I know we've never given each other gifts, but we have only known each other for one Christmas, and seeing that this is our second and we some how managed not to kill each other, I say a gift is in order. Don't worry about getting me anything though, I'm perfectly content.  
  
School lets out tomorrow!! Then it's Chilton free for almost 3 weeks. Knowing the teachers, we'll have homework. Study the celebration of Christmas throughout the ages and write a 30 page paper on it, no doubt. Bastards. (Excuse me.)  
  
My mother is pulling me now, she wants to go eat and I've kept her waiting long enough. No patients at all, I tell you!  
  
Write back soon Tristan.  
  
Always,  
Rory.  
  
_Tristan folded the letter and tucked it away in his truck in a pair of socks he never wore, her other letter resting beside the new one. He'd have to write her after lunch, durning his free period again. Lately, that's all he's been doing. Reading and writing letters to Rory, or awaiting another from her. They seemed to get him through the harshness of his new school, one he hated more than Chilton.  
  
He folded his hands up into fists and rested his chin on them, thinking. Three more days before he could go home. His parents finally agreed that he should come home for Christmas, but told him not to expect as many gifts as usual. Not that he cared, his parents pricey but meaningless gifts were the last thing from his mind. He debating even making home his first stop once he reached Connecticut. He wanted to see Rory.  
  
He was afraid the picture of her in his mind was fading, although he could still make out her blue eyes and brown hair. Her voice is what he remember the most. Anger and frustrated, happy and enthusiastic, he remembered them all. At night he played back converstations they had over and over, like a movie. One of those old fashioned movies with the cheesy romantic music playing in the background. How the lighting seemed to hit the girl perfectly as she looked up at him from under her lashes and smiled. It was exactly what he needed.  
  
"You want to sneak out and take a smoke, Tristan?" A voice called from the bed beside him, and Tristan looked over, not bothing to remove his chin from his hands.  
  
"No, I'm trying to quit. Thanks, Craig"  
  
"What?" Craig laughed, smiling at Tristan. "You don't look the same Tristan." He grinned at a few other boys in their beds. "I think Tristan's in love." He teased, recieving laughter from the other boys.  
  
Tristan grinned and sat up. "At least I can get a girl, Craig. That's more than I can say for you."  
  
Craig laughed and hit Tristan's shoulder as he made his way out the bunk doors "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Romeo!"  
  
Tristan grinned softly and layed back down. How strange would it be to wisk Rory away, marry her in secret and have such a passion that Romeo and Juliet had. Without the suicide part of course. He imagined he did love Rory as much as Romeo loved Juliet, possibly even more.  
  
  
_Rory,  
  
I have 2 more days until I'm coming home, and I leave on the 3rd of Jan. I know we'll have time to visit, because I doubt I'll be spending much time at home with my parents. (They finally decided to tell me they were spending the winter in Greece.) I'll most likely be throwing a Christmas party, seeing as my parents wont know about it and even if they find out, they really can't punish me anymore than they already have. Yes, I am inviting all Chilton students, but you can bring a friend if you like.   
  
You'll be my date, won't you?  
  
I always have enjoyed Christmas actually. Not as much as this year, I'm sure. Are you going to your Grandparent's for Christmas, or staying at home? Your Grandfather's a great man. My Grandpa and yours did a little business awhile back, so I'm told, before we were born. Interesting huh?  
  
What would YOU like for Christmas? There is no way I'm letting you get me something, and get nothing in return. Tis the season for giving, right? Would you like a car? Perhaps a beach house? I'm kiddin. I can't even get a beach house outta my parents.  
  
Kiddin!  
  
They did cut off my hair, and yes, I cried. Again, joking. It'll grow back fast, it always has. I do miss it though. Nervous habbit, running my hands through my hair and now that it's gone I've reduced myself to biting my fingernails which not only annoys me, but the people around me.  
  
Rory...I'm so unbelievably bored here you wouldn't believe! All the books they've got here, I've already read. We can't listen to music outside of our rooms, and we hardly ever get to go out and do anything. Writing and reading is all I have left, and I'm running low on that too (wink, wink)  
  
I can't wait to get out of here. The sheets on these beds are terrible (Don't you dare be cute and go out and buy me sheets.) and the pilows are flat. They said we could bring out own, but that they'd most likely be stolen. The kids here aren't terrible though. Of course you've got those few that are complete assholes (Like me) and you don't want anything to do with them because they will steal your pillow, flat or not. Some are cool though. The guy next to me, Craig, is here for practically the same reason. Rich kid who's parents don't want to deal with him themselves. He's a nice kid though, horrible parents.  
  
It's lights out, I've got to sleep (My ass...)  
  
Write back soon, Mary.  
  
Always,  
Tristan.  
  
P.S.. As for what I want for Christmas? You.  
  
_


End file.
